"At fifteen you had the radiance of early morning, at twenty you will begin to have the melancholy brilliance of the moon."
"The past beats inside me like a second heart."
"But ‘art’ is not anything serious or exclusive: it is the smell of oil paint, Henri Murger’s Vie de Boheme, corduroy trousers, the operatic Italian model: but the poetry, above all, of linseed oil and turpentine."
Wyndham Lewis, Tarr (via larmoyante)
"God I want you
in some primal, wild way
animals want each other.
Untamed and full of teeth.
God I want you,
In some chaste, Victorian way.
A glimpse of your ankle
just kills me.